


End, Middle, Beginning

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alien Invasion, Apocalypse, Big Bang Challenge, Community: Apocabigbang, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything changes after the aliens attack Earth; well, almost everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End, Middle, Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lindentreeisle and andmydog for betaing and otherwise encouraging my sanity!
> 
> Andmydog also did a fabulous soundtrack for this fic: You can find a link and (spoilerly) full track listing [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/apocabigbang/11826.html#cutid1)

_ **End, Middle, Beginning: 1/2** _   


1.

Nagi Naoe had always known he'd come back to the United States at some point; Crawford had said as much years ago. Nagi'd just always figured he'd come back with Schwarz, not as part of a Japanese diplomatic mission.

Mamoru was looking out the window. "New York's beautiful, isn't it?"

It was, aside from the smog and the congestion, and they were high enough up that the traffic seemed more like an abstraction than an annoyance. "You're not in New York right now," Nagi reminded him, walking over and touching his back. "This is U.N. territory."

"But I'm looking at New York. How long do we have before the next meeting?"

Nagi checked his PDA. "Ten minutes. We might as well move into the conference room."

Mamoru smiled. "We're not going to get to see the city at all, are we?"

"Probably not," Nagi said. "The next meeting is up two floors, I think--" He was interrupted by the buzzing of the PDA: Crawford.

He hadn't heard Crawford's voice in three years. He picked up. "Where are you?"

"New York," Nagi answered, and could almost hear Crawford calculating at the other end of the line. "The U.N. building," he added, overcoming his reluctance.

"Down," Crawford said. "You need to get down. Basement, lower levels. Turn off all the electronics, you'll want the battery power later."

The line went dead. Nagi stared at the phone for half a second, then turned it off. "Turn off your laptop," he told Mamoru. "Off, not powered down. We need to get downstairs."

"We're not--" Mamoru looked up. "What just happened?"

"Nothing yet," Nagi said. "Do it." He looked over at the guard by the exit. "I'll be right back."

The guard raised an eyebrow as he approached. "I just had an alert from my people," Nagi said. "Credible threat against the building. What's the procedure?"

The guard shook his head. "I haven't heard any--"

"I don't care what you heard," Nagi said. "I care about covering my ass here. What's the procedure?"

"Depends on the threat," he answered, sighing. "Any details?"

"Something surface level, by the sounds," Nagi said. "I'll let you know if I get anything else."

The man frowned. "How reliable is your source?"

Nagi considered. "Ninety-five percent," he said. "I don't care what you do, but I'm taking my assignment to the basement."

"Understood," the guard said.

Nagi took a deep breath and walked back to Mamoru, who was closing his laptop case. "We're going down," he said.

"What's going on?"

"Not sure yet. Got a call."

"Who from?"

Nagi took his arm. "An old American friend."

He could feel Mamoru stiffen. "All right. Let's go."

Mamoru made a few calls on the way down the stairs. Someone tried to stop them at the basement level; Nagi focused for a moment, and the man crumpled to the ground.

"You didn't--"

"He'll be fine," Nagi said. _Probably._ It didn't matter. The basement mattered. Getting low mattered--

They were two floors below ground level the first time the earth shook. The elevator shuddered to a halt. Nagi forced the doors open; no sense in wasting too much of his strength. They were only a few feet below the floor, so they boosted each other up, pushing the outer doors clear, and headed for the stairs. Things were crowded there, and the anxiety and fear made his head ache. Mamoru gripped his arm. He was nervous, too, but hiding it well; Nagi wanted to kiss him. He settled for muttering "Thank you."

Mamoru didn't answer; he just kept steering, his eyes focused on the steps ahead of them.

It would get worse by the time they reached the basement. Nagi let himself focus on Mamoru: slow breaths, calm movement, fingers tight around his arm. Another quake; they had to brace themselves against the stairwell, and someone started screaming. Mamoru winced and kept walking, pulling Nagi along, as soon as the shaking stopped.

Nagi forgot, sometimes, how strong Mamoru could be. He let Mamoru take him to the lowest level they could reach; uncomfortably crowded and loud.

Mamoru swept over the crowd with his eyes. "There isn't even half the building here," he murmured into Nagi's ear.

It was still too many, Nagi thought, but he stayed quiet. They found a spot next to the laundry room and settled down for the wait.

Another shake. The power went out and the emergency lights came on, dull and blue.

"He didn't say--"

Nagi shook his head. It had been too urgent for that. Mamoru put an arm around Nagi's shoulders. "Is it better if I'm close?"

Nagi nodded and leaned into Mamoru's weight. "We shouldn't, though," he said. "Someone will--"

"I think everyone will have other things to worry about," Mamoru said, and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Just rest."

Nagi closed his eyes. He couldn't rest, exactly, but he let the feelings and noises wash over him, trying to use Mamoru's steadiness as an anchor. Mamoru stroked his hair, gentler than he ever was in bed. Of course, Nagi had never had much use for gentle in bed. "Mamoru," he said. "We should--"

"Sssh," Mamoru said. "I'm on it."

Nagi let himself drift.

People passed by, mostly keeping their voices low. Someone crouched down and spoke to Mamoru; Nagi heard him murmur "claustrophobic" and didn't bother holding on to the rest. It all sounded like speculation.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he woke to Mamoru's voice, talking to someone; a woman. "Should I wake him up?"

"I'm awake," he grumbled, shifting his weight.

"Take this," Mamoru said, handing him a pair of white oval pills.

Nagi swallowed them dry. "Iodine?"

The woman-- she was white, blond, dark circles under her eyes-- nodded. "They're fairly certain something happened at Indian Point. Maybe DC, too."

"Terrorists?"

Her face creased further with worry. "They don't think so."

He frowned. "So what..."

"I've heard the word _extraterrestrial_ three times," Mamoru said, with far too much gentleness.

The girl looked nervous. "I can't confirm--"

"I know you can't," he said. "I'm telling him." Nagi's head was still balanced against Mamoru's arm; Mamoru felt warm, steady. The crowd was calmer now, too; whatever was outside, at least they were out of it. "The Ambassador was here half an hour ago. Something happened up there, but no one's quite sure what. People tried to kill themselves; lots of them. Power's surged and gone off again twice."

Half an hour? Nagi wrenched himself upright and tried to fix his hair. "How long--"

"It's been hours," Mamoru said, as the girl got up and walked away. "Not much news. Lots of rumors. Oh, and one of the Americans decided it was the Rapture. They've got him sedated."

"The Rapture?"

"I guess at the end of the world the good Christians get pulled into heaven? He couldn't understand why he was still here."

Nagi shrugged. "Must be a Protestant thing." He considered. Crawford would be fine, or he wouldn't have called Nagi; he'd probably have Schuldig with him. He would have called Farfarello; Ireland wouldn't be a target, most likely. But then there were Mamoru's people. Yohji, what was left of him, was in Japan; Mamoru probably wouldn't even have had a number to call. Aya and Ken might be all right, but who knew where they were in Europe?

The trip from Japan had already caused enough jet-lag; Mamoru looked exhausted now and felt worse. "Your turn," Nagi said, shifting his weight again and pulling off his jacket. "You need to rest."

"I--"

"If anything happens, I'll wake you up." He folded his jacket into a parody of a pillow and set it in his lap. "I won't go anywhere. I promise." He needed to piss, but he could hold it for a while longer.

"Get up and walk around first," Mamoru said, sighing. "Use the bathroom. I can wait." He rubbed his temples.

"I'll be right back," he said, getting up, and pressed his lips to Mamoru's temple. Mamoru reached up and held him for a long moment. "Right back," he repeated. "I promise."

"Okay."

 

_You know your day's gonna suck,_ Kudoh Yohji reflected, _when you wake up naked and strapped to a table._

"I have rights!" someone was yelling in English. "Haven't you ever heard of the Constitution?"

"What's the constitution?" a woman next to him murmured in Japanese.

"Not sure," he answered. "Something American, I think."

The last thing he remembered before the table was--

Asuka.

She'd jumped out the window of their apartment, and he'd leaned over in horror, trying to ignore the other thoughts racing around his mind-- the memories, _the name--_ and seen nothing but violence, chaos, bodies. Asuka wasn't the only one who'd chosen a window. What the hell was going on? He slid the window down and rubbed his temples.

Someone was pounding at the door. Yohji had walked dazedly across the room and opened it.

A wild-eyed stranger was staring at him.

"I closed the window," Yohji told him.

"I don't deserve to live," the stranger said. "Why should I--"

Yohji wrestled him to the ground before he could do anything stupid. "Let me go," the man had pled. "Let me die!"

"Don't wanna," Yohji said, holding him fast.

And then the man had passed out underneath him, just _collapsed,_ and Yohji--

Everything had gone white then.

_You're a violent people,_ a voice said in his mind. _Your impulse for destruction is strong, even for self-destruction. But you weren't affected at all. Why is that?_

Everyone started shouting answers, in a variety of languages. "I don't fucking know," Yohji muttered. He'd had enough of psychics years ago.

Then it hit him: whoever was talking to him had pulled a Schuldig all over Japan, maybe over the whole world. And when it hadn't worked well enough on him and these other poor saps, they'd kidnapped them. How the hell had he-- hell, how had _any_ of them gotten here?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down.

_We will not harm you,_ the voice intoned calmly. _You are very special to us._

"I bet," Yohji growled, opening his eyes.

The room appeared to be made of stainless steel, sterile and shining. There wasn't much light, just a dim glow from the room's edges. He couldn't properly turn his head, but his peripheral vision told him that there were more people surrounding him, presumably as trapped as he was. It was cool, but not cold. Yohji tried wiggling his fingers; they would move a little, but that was abut the extent of it. The restraints were cool, too, but didn't seem to have the metallic coolness he'd expected of them. There didn't seem to be any tubes or wires attached to his body, just the restraints; did that mean they didn't intend to keep him there long, or were they just that ignorant or careless of human needs?

It was going to _suck_ if he had to piss any time soon.

_You are an interesting people indeed,_ the voice said, and Yohji smelled something that reminded him a little of roses; then he slept.

 

2.

 

Crawford blinked up at the ceiling.

"About damn time," Schuldig said. "I'm sick of being the sane one."

"How long have I been out?"

"Out out, or oblivious out?" Schuldig asked. "It's been weeks, but you were only asleep a few hours this time."

Crawford sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Where are we?"

"Fallout shelter. You told me it was the safest plan. We've probably got enough food for another month or two, but it's starting to stink in here."

It _did_ stink. "Rats?"

Schuldig shook his head.

"How many?"

"Two. I didn't do it, I was busy with you. Well, I did the second one, but that was after he killed the first."

"We weren't far enough underground," Crawford concluded, sticking his hand out and trying to find his monocle. "I was afraid of that."

Schuldig shrugged. "Only so much I could do."

"I know," Crawford said, his hand closing over metal and glass. "Have we heard from Nagi?" He fitted the monocle in place.

"Nothing yet," Schuldig said, settling on the bed next to Crawford. "You're sure--"

"He's fine," Crawford said. "He'll call..." He focused. "Tomorrow." His head was clearing. "We should pack up as much of the food as we can. We'll want it."

"I'm not going to have to eat you, am I?" Schuldig said, reaching over and playing with Crawford's shirt collar.

Crawford rolled his eyes. "Only recreationally."

"Mmm," Schuldig said. "That sounds like a good idea."

"It smells disgusting in here," Crawford said.

"I can fix that," Schuldig promised, straddling him. He smelled like he hadn't touched soap in weeks.

"I'm not sure even your powers are up to--"

The room changed. _I guess they are,_ Crawford thought to himself, as Schuldig lowered his mouth to Crawford's. He smelled like clean soap and aftershave now, his hair damp from a shower. Crawford let himself believe the illusion, let Schuldig slowly unbutton his dress shirt. "You were out too fucking long," Schuldig said, and spread his hands slowly over Crawford's bared chest.

Crawford couldn't repress his grin. "You missed me."

"I got bored," Schudig said, but his relief was impossible to hide, especially with so much of Schuldig's attention taken by illusion. "The radio only came back two days ago."

Schuldig's fingers were cool and familiar. Crawford breathed in and closed his eyes. "Fuck me?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Schuldig purred.

 

Their hotel was still intact, which was something of a relief after the chaos of the streets. The first and second floors were unpleasant, but after that things had pretty much cleared out. Most of the suicides had gone for the windows.

A few cell phones were working again, sporadically but working, and the land lines had been restored, though Mamoru couldn't guess how. Nagi had speculated that the aliens-- or whatever they were-- had triggered a massive suicidal impulse; they had been low enough underground to miss it, and some people seemed immune to the signal, though no one could quite figure out why or how.

"I wonder if...." Nagi bit his lower lip.

"What?"

"I'll ask Crawford what he thinks when he calls in."

Mamoru envied him his certainty. They had little word at all from Japan, and though Rex assured him most of the staff was intact, he couldn't exactly call the man who was once Kudoh Yohji to see if he was all right. Europe's communication systems were still being restored, and the calls he'd made to Ken and Aya's cell phones had gotten no answer. It all meant nothing. There were still scores of people across the world just _missing,_ probably dead but status uncertain, and no one quite knew how to even begin tabulating the absences.

Crawford had set up an arrangement with Schwarz years ago; a call on Sunday at midnight GMT in case of Esset or another major crisis. Mamoru wished he'd had the foresight. But of course, Crawford's came naturally. Mamoru rubbed his temples. At least they had a place to stay now, and a real bed, for as long as it was warm enough to stay in the building. The water was probably still running, though it'd be cold. He slumped on the bed.

"Odige says that we'll probably be up and running by tomorrow," Nagi said. "Though what we'll actually be doing is a mystery."

They'd struck up something of a friendship with Odige, the newly named Ambassador from Benin. Odige had been working in the States for some years and was happy to show Mamoru-- the newly named Ambassador from Japan, by virtue of being the highest ranked diplomat from their proud country still alive in New York-- the basics of politics in what was left of the United Nations.

People clung to structure; the remaining staff had pulled together and in days had constructed a reasonable fascimile of a working staff, aside from a few issues with new staffers who hadn't yet learned any of the six official languages. Mamoru's English was passable, and Nagi was good in French and English; that got them through most situations. It was almost normal, if you ignored the discussions of body removal and the fact the power still wasn't back on for more than two hours a day. They had little to do in the short term, but the devestation worldwide meant that there were going to be global problems with logistics; not enough raw materials being mined and refined, not enough fuel to get them shipped to where they needed to go. "I want a shower," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"You always want a shower," Nagi replied, and dropped down on the bed next to him. "We could probably get some hot water for a bath; I think the stove's gas." He reached over and stroked the shell of Mamoru's ear. "Nice and private here."

For the past month, their intimacy had generally been limited to what they could grab in a supply closet. Mamoru's body was exhausted, but Nagi's touch was familiar and hardly unpleasant. "Bath first?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm not dealing with that shit twice tonight," Nagi said, shifting his weight. "After."

"'After' I'll be asleep."

"You're so Japanese." Nagi's fingers reached the back of Mamoru's neck. "C'mon, it'll be nice."

"You're Japanese too," Mamoru protested, but he leaned over and kissed Nagi anyway.

 

3.

Mamoru was still half-awake in the morning. At least they had the day off. "You're switching duties tomorrow," Nagi said, curled up at the head of the bed, his knees against Mamoru's shoulders. "No argument."

"Then you are too," Mamoru said. "Don't think I didn't hear you throwing up."

They had cleared out the remnants of a school yesterday. Nagi wanted to protest that he'd seen worse, but he really hadn't. "All right," he conceded.

The mornings were for diplomacy, administration, making hard decisions; in the afternoons, they worked like everyone else. They were young and in good shape and had seen, they thought, enough bodies to make them pretty immune. It was generally true, but the kids had been hard, and the sheer monotony of the task was starting to get to them both. There was plenty of other work that needed doing, and plenty of people had burnt out on the task already, or only cleared bodies for a day or two. Odige was working in the UN kitchen. Mamoru would be okay there, or maybe on the computers.

And they needed to be away from each other for a while. It was getting stifling. "I'm gonna go out for a while," Nagi said. He'd taken a bath with the water he'd heated up on the stove, which helped a little. Not enough; never enough.

Mamoru nodded. "I'll be here."

 

Ken was a soldier. He had always been a soldier. He had been born in the land where the sun rose high, and they had taken him from his crib to learn the ways of war.

It was a hard life, but a satisfying one. He was strong and skilled, and found happiness in warfare.

He had two bunkmates; Irina, a dark-skinned woman who punched as hard as Ken could, and Jei, a pale-skinned man with a shock of white hair and one missing eye. They slept in three cots; Ken at the top, Jei in the middle, and Irina closest to the floor.

They had always been together, though Jei was from the green lands, and Irina from the land of tigers. That was just how it was. They stood together, fought together, protected one another.

And they protected the People.

The People fed them, kept them sheltered and warm. They owed the People everything. The People did not show their faces to humans, but their orders guided the soldiers' lives.

The People were life.

The People were hope.

The People had to be protected.

 

Chloe handed Aya another tin of milk. "Not bad," he said. In half an hour, they'd found enough for tonight's dinner and the next morning's, too, and they hadn't had any trouble. No other looters, no dangerously exposed wires, no fires. A good day.

The disconcerting reality was that there were no longer enough people alive to fight over the dwindling food stores. Would things be all right back in Japan? Aya had assured him that she was fine, but he knew she wouldn't hesitate to gloss over any details that would upset him, and they'd had to keep their call short.

Still, she was alive. That was something. She hadn't found Sakura, alive or otherwise. He'd finally tracked Rex down and found out that she and Mamoru were still alive, Mamoru in New York doing something diplomatic.

There was a grim logic to that, Mamoru busy in offices while he and Chloe picked their way around debris and buried the remaining bodies they could find. At least this time none of the dead had been at his hand. And he supposed he'd finally be free of Kritker, if he wanted. But what did he want, now? What choices did he have?

They'd found Yuki and Michel dead back at their apartment; no sign of Free or Ken. Neither of them talked about it, but they'd gathered most of their things and moved to another building after two days. They didn't talk much. What was there to say?

Sometimes at night Chloe would move next to him, not touching him exactly, just close enough to share heat. Another thing they didn't talk about.

"I miss the others," Chloe said that night. "It's too quiet."

"I miss--" Aya said, then stopped himself as he realized what he was saying.

"What," Chloe said gently. "Ken's cooking? I miss that."

Aya shook his head. "Someone from Weiss," he said. "You never met him. It was a long time ago. He'd be making some kind of stupid joke about all this."

Yohji had kissed Aya once, just before things really went to hell. Yohji'd been drunk, and Aya had pushed him away and said-- something, a threat probably, he couldn't remember any more-- and they'd never spoken of it. But sometimes Aya could still feel the press of Yohji's lips on his. _"It'd be good,"_ Yohji'd said, _"If you let me."_ And now Yohji was someone else, if he was even alive.

Aya closed his eyes, tight, and tried to stop thinking about it.

 

As far as Yohji could tell, about half of them were still in their right minds. The other half were glassy-eyed, fanatical, devoted to The People-- whoever the disembodied voices that ordered them around actually _were_\-- and completely oblivious to the more fortunate around them who'd managed to throw off the mind whammy.Any obvious troublemakers must've been weeded out even before they put them in their bunks and told them they were soldiers. So the rest of them played along. There was no visible means of escape and no sign of their captors. No sense in wasting energy; they were getting fed, exercised, supplied. Whatever influence the-- aliens? Mutants?-- had on their minds, they weren't capable of _reading_ them, and Yohji was grateful as hell for that. And he was sane, saner than he'd been in years. Whatever they'd done to him, something must've worked for the better.

It was almost time for morning drill, or whatever counted for 'morning' in a series of steel chambers without windows. He got up and stretched; they usually had a few minutes to themselves before weapons training. His bunkmates were already out, eagerly awaiting their time in the Great Room. Just his luck he'd end up with two people still under.

He walked out into the Great Room and the voice in his head announced that they'd have new training partners today. New partners were a mixed blessing; sometimes they were zombies, so overzealous you could get hurt. Other times he'd been lucky enough to make a connection, just by eye contact or a smile at the right moment. At least he wasn't alone.

_You'll be working with Jei,_ the voice in his head declared. Yohji nodded and waited for them to point him in the right direction.

It was kind of like the few times he'd had Schuldig in his head, a weird compulsion that he never really got used to. There he was, and there his new partner was, and they'd just _need_ to walk toward each other until they met. The crowd shifted and roiled, and then his partner began coming into view-- shock of white hair with a young face, a familiar--

_Farfarello._

"Jei," he said, aloud.

Farfarello-- Jei-- nodded, and Yohji saw the spark of recognition in his eyes. "And you are Yohji," he said, levelly, in the strange language all of them had learned but no one seemed to find familiar.

Yohji nodded, and tried to ignore his pounding heart. Farfarello was immune to poison, and good with knives, and completely insane-- but then again, Yohji'd been, too, hadn't he?

Things were looking up.

"The Prime Minister," Crawford said, smiling, "has agreed to meet." He lay back on the embroidered couch and sighed. "We're very close now."

"Wonderful," Schuldig said, irritably filling a crystal glass with their last bottle of sparkling water. "And how many Vicodin have you had today?" Normally their surroundings alone would be enough to please the telepath; the millionaire who had owned the place before his unfortunate suicide had invested in the height of security and maintenance systems, the solar cells were working perfectly and the generators were still all but fully fueled. The kitchen had been fully stocked; though Schuldig's favorites were beginning to disappear, they still had months of food in storage. But Schuldig was still anxious and easily angered.

"I'm fine," Crawford said. The correct answer was three, but Schuldig didn't need to know that. The hit the population had taken meant even the popular drugs weren't too hard to find, and the millionaire-- rest his addicted soul-- had kept an excellent stock of his own. "You know we have to do this to reach our goal."

"Our goal?" Schuldig drank his glass empty and set it down on the table hard. "Yours, Crawford. I want to live where I want to, and take what I want to, and fuck who I want to. I've only got one of three now, and you're not taking _that_ away from me."

It was oddly close to sentimental, coming from Schuldig, but they were too close to the end to worry about sentiment. "I've got plenty of time," he said. "Stop fussing. I need to get in position--"

"Bullshit," Schuldig said, angrily this time. "You're afraid--"

_"Stop,"_ Crawford said, feeling his own anger rise. "It's not about fear. I have to--"

"I know your excuses," Schuldig said. "And every morning when you're too sleepy to shield decently, I know how you _really_ feel."

Crawford winced, and the door slammed behind Schuldig. "You're being ridiculous," Crawford said to the empty room. "The tumor's operable for at least two months."

He sighed; he needed another Vicodin. At least Schuldig wouldn't be there to watch him take it.

 

It wasn't really surprising that people still wanted flowers, but it pleased Aya anyway. She didn't bother charging; the shop kept her busy in the afternoons, when she wasn't helping Momoe and her neighbors at the senior center. She'd planted some vegetables in the greenhouse and hoped that it would help as supplies started dwindling. There just weren't enough _people;_ not enough to plant, not enough to pick, maybe not enough to keep the power plants running. Everything was uncertain, and no one knew if there'd be another attack.

Aya had seen the satellite images; the dark shadow that had appeared, far more quickly than any human technology could move, and disappeared again into the stars. She watched it over and over, until the batteries on her cellphone died; she didn't want to waste the electricity it would take to recharge it. No one called now, anyway.

Momoe had asked if she minded being alone at the shop and she didn't, really, aside from missing Sakura. She felt as safe as she had in the busier Tokyo she was used to, and while the quiet was unsettling, she wanted to be there in case Sakura came back.

She missed Sakura, who always tried to make Aya smile, who sang when she put new flowers in place, who liked to tease the customers who couldn't tell them apart by wearing the wrong nametag or putting a hat on to hide her different hairstyle. They'd had so much fun together, the sister she'd never known she wanted. It was lonely without her.

The woman who called herself Rex had stopped by the day before. As the days after the attack had stretched on, she'd dropped the pretense of being the secretary of the building owner and had passed on more information. Ran was alive, and at least one of the men who had saved her-- it seemed a lifetime ago-- was too. The others were missing, like Sakura.

She hoped they would all be all right. Lately, mostly what she did was hope.

 

Nagi finally found Mamoru on the roof, lying on his stomach and reading by the light of one of those hand-cranked radio/flashlights that had been so popular for a few years and now were immensely useful. The radio was on, playing music-- that was a good sign, someone had decided there was enough power to run more than the information feed-- and Mamoru seemed calmer than he'd expected. Still, he was painfully happy to see Nagi, and his kiss came with a rush of relief.

"I told you I'd come back," he said.

"I know." Mamoru's voice was so quiet he had trouble hearing it over the radio.

Nagi had walked around Central Park for a while, listening to the strange quiet of a city with most of its traffic gone. His original plan had been to go to one of the few bars left, find a girl, and take her somewhere-- anywhere-- just blot out the sheer horror of it for a little while, escape the growing sense that this ridiculous life was their new normality. But instead he'd sat by the pond and watched the ducks. When night started falling, he got up and realized just how long he'd spent in the park.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should've called or something."

"It's okay." Mamoru rolled over on the blanket he'd laid out on the roof. "Yesterday...." He shook his head. "We needed a break."

Nagi kneeled down. "I," he started, then just handed Mamoru the box.

It was dark and the flashlight wasn't great, but Mamoru still raised his eyebrows at Tiffany blue. "Talk to me, Harry Winston?"

"Could you be gayer? Open it."

Mamoru stuck out his tongue and flipped open the box. "Still, I think-- oh." He sucked in a little breath. _"Nagi-kun--"_

"Yeah, yeah, I shouldn't have," he said. There'd been one vault still uncracked at Tiffany's, and to Nagi's immense relief, it had held what he'd been looking for.

"Can you--"

"Yeah," Nagi said, and tipped the flashlight up so he could see better. The hoops met little resistance as they went through the old holes in Mamoru's ears, though he felt Mamoru stiffen a bit as he pushed. "All right?"

Mamoru kissed him, breathless, hard. "All right," he said, and pulled Nagi close.

"If I'd known you were this easy, I would've gotten diamonds," Nagi muttered, and Mamoru bit his ear, just enough to hurt. "Ow!"

"Just be quiet," Mamoru said, pulling Nagi down and rolling on top of him. "You'll be happier."

"Happier," Nagi muttered, but then Mamoru's hand was unbuttoning his fly, and _happier_ suddenly seemed like an appropriate word. He was half-hard by the time Mamoru's fingers reached his cock, and Nagi closed his eyes and tipped his head back. To his delight, it was Mamoru's mouth, not his hand, that took him, and Mamoru was _born_ to suck cock, he swore, that damn oral fixation of his....

He reached down with his power and started on the buttons of Mamoru's shirt. Mamoru moaned in approval and sucked harder. "Yeah," Nagi said, in encouragement. "Damn, that feels good." He focused and they both lifted off the blanket, just a little, just enough to make Mamoru squirm. Mamoru _loved_ the telekinesis, and Nagi loved the surge of pleasure he felt from Mamoru's excitement. He put a hand in Mamoru's hair, soft even as dirty as it was, and used his free hand to stroke Mamoru's repierced ear. Mamoru shivered again, and took a breath around Nagi's cock.

Nagi made a noise that made Mamoru giggle around him, and came just as Mamoru started stroking his balls. Once he'd caught his breath, he flipped them both over in the air, pulling Mamoru's face up to his and letting them rock back and forth a bit before their bodies settled a few centimeters above the blanket. Mamoru giggled again, then gasped as Nagi used his power to pull down his fly and his fingers to stroke his cock.

"Nagi-kun," he encouraged, closing his eyes, and Nagi grinned and tightened his grip.

"C'mon," he said. "Talk to me."

"You feel so good," Mamoru said, "so strong, _God,_ how do you--"

Nagi was getting hard again; maybe he could talk Mamoru into letting him--

"Uh," Mamoru grunted, and came, his head snapping back--

"Mamoru!"

"Shit," Mamoru said. Nagi had pulled them both up quickly, but not quickily enough; Mamoru's head had hit the cement of the roof _hard._ He rubbed the back of his head. "So much for afterglow--"

"Are you bleeding?" Nagi squinted, trying to see by the light of the flashlight. "Should I get some ice?" He didn't know where he'd get ice, but there'd have to be some _somewhere._ Probably the hospitals had some....

"I'm fine," Mamoru said, waving him off as they both sank slowly down to the ground. "It just hurt. And I feel like an idiot."

"You _are_ an idiot," Nagi huffed, but he relaxed a little. His erection was well and truly dead, but at least he wouldn't have to drag Mamoru to the clinic. He settled next to Mamoru, and Mamoru put his head on Nagi's chest. Nagi wadded up Mamoru's shirt and put it under his own head, and they watched the stars in silence for a while.

"Do you think it'll be all right?"

"I don't know," Nagi said. "I talked to Crawford. Things are getting close, but he's not certain yet."

After Mamoru fell asleep, Nagi wrapped him up in the blanket and carried him downstairs, floating their other things behind him as he went. Fall was coming soon; they'd have to move somewhere else, where there was heat. The hotel was nice; not many people wanted to fight the stairs to go up to their level, so it was quiet and reasonably private. He'd miss that.

_Maybe it'll be our summer home,_ he thought wryly.

 

4.

Mamoru tapped his fingers on the desktop. "So we can't produce any more solar cells?"

"We can, but there are some unsurmountable delays. The raw materials mining has been behind, and--" Mamoru could picture Yuri shrugging on the other end of the line.

"I'll talk to the others. Perhaps we can adjust some of the shipping schedules." Nagi walked into his vision and gestured for his attention. "I'll call you back. Two hours."

"All right. Thank you, Takatori-sama."

"Thank you, Yuri-san. You've done good work." Mamoru turned off his phone. "What is it?"

Nagi sighed. "The American government has an asset in their possession they want us to vouch for."

Mamoru raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Crawford," Nagi said.

"You're not serious."

Nagi leaned down, resting his elbows against the absurdly large desk. One good thing about losing most of the population overnight; there was plenty of office space. "I'm serious. He says he knows there's going to be another attack. They want to know if they should take him seriously."

Mamoru swallowed. Nagi's face was a weird mix of frustration and doubt. "You think he's telling the truth?"

Nagi nodded.

"Then I guess I'd better," Mamoru said, getting up from the desk. "Whose ass do I have to kiss?"

"Some general," Nagi said. "You just have to call him, they're in Florida for some stupid reason." He handed over the phone. "Just call the number back, I'm sure they'll be _delighted."_

"All right," Mamoru said, but Nagi was already walking out of the office. Mamoru made a mental note and called.

A secretary picked up, who passed it through two more people until a heavy male voice answered. "It's Kay, what?"

"General," Mamoru said. "You called in regards to Brad Crawford?"

"Ambassador?"

"Yes," Mamoru confirmed. "I believe you spoke with my executive assistant."

"Naoe? Seems like a good man."

Mamoru smiled. "You are in contact with Mr. Crawford?" The 'Mr.' always sounded so strange.

"He says he alerted your people just before the first attack."

"He did. He called Mr. Naoe directly. The U.N. evacuation was in part prompted by his contact. His visions are usually accurate. I _can't_ vouch for what he chooses to share with you, of course."

"Of course. And this never struck you as odd? His...visions?"

"Our culture is...less skeptical of these things than yours, General Kay. And Mr. Crawford is...something of a loose cannon. His plans normally benefit one individual, and that is Brad Crawford. At the moment, his interests coincide with ours. But I would be cautious."

A moment's pause. "I appreciate your honesty."

"This conflict is about much more than the United States and Japan, General. And our nations have an friendship that is well worth protecting."

"I guess you're right there," and it sounded like the General was smiling on the other end of the line. "I'll be in touch if we have further questions, Ambassador. Thanks."

"You're very welcome." Mamoru turned off the call and walked out of the office. Nagi was back in his own office, leaning over his desk, his shoulders hunched with tension. He glanced up at Mamoru and his face eased for a moment.

Mamoru walked over behind the desk and put his hands on Nagi's shoulders. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Nagi sighed. "You're not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you?"

Mamoru just squeezed.

"He's got a brain tumor," Nagi said into the paperwork. "He's been too stubborn to get it treated. Schuldig says he's been putting off surgery because he knows he'll lose the visions." Mamoru rubbed gently, and Nagi relaxed a little. "I don't even know--" Nagi sighed. "He found me."

"I know."

"If I'd never met him--" Nagi sighed. "You know."

"I know," Mamoru repeated, and pressed his lips to the top of Nagi's head for a moment.

"I don't even know if I want--"

Mamoru leaned down further and wrapped his arms around Nagi's body. "What about Schuldig?"

"He's more scared than Crawford." Nagi finally gave up on the paperwork and turned his chair around, pulled Mamoru closer. "I don't know. He was...nice to me. I mean, he said my girlfriend was retarded and he told me I had terrible taste in Internet porn, but...."

Mamoru had seen HotMagicGirlSluts.com on his browser history a few times; he felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for Schuldig. "Just let me know, all right?"

"All right."

"Yuri says that they're running low on raw material for the solar panels. So I'll be haggling with the Chinese ambassador for the rest of the morning."

"Wonderful," Nagi said wryly.

"Let me know what you want to do, all right? We'll make it happen."

"I know," Nagi said. "Thank you."

 

General Kay was smiling when he came back into the meeting room. "Mr. Crawford," he said, pulling back a chair and tucking his lean, tall frame into the seat. "Let's just say you passed your reference check. Let's talk about our options."

"They'll be attacking in early November," Crawford said. "I'm afraid I can't pinpoint it any more precisely than that at this time. I do, from considering my options, have a fairly accurate idea of the exact form the attack will take, and how best to guard against it--"

And then came the pain, so hard and sharp it was all but blinding. He blinked, hard, and tried to focus, tried to breathe.

"Mr. Crawford," someone asked. "Are you all right? Can we--?"

Crawford could see someone reaching out to him-- it must've been Kay, he was the only black man in the room-- but then things went blurry with pain.

He put his hands to his temples and closed his eyes.

 

He woke up in a cool white room with a bed as hard as a slab of cement.

"You're awake," Schuldig said. "I'll call the nurse." He moved to press the call button, but Crawford caught his wrist first. "What did you do?" he demanded. "How did you--"

"All I did," Schuldig said, "was stop helping you."

"You're lying," Crawford snarled. "You--"

Schuldig's face didn't move. "You want me to do it again? You know I don't lie. It's much easier to get what I want with the truth." He hit the call button with his free hand.

Crawford let go of Schuldig's wrist. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "You're a manipulative son of a bitch."

"That's why you keep me around. Did you forget?"

He'd secured his position with the United States military and handed over all the details he could glean. Of course this was when Schuldig would make his move. They'd consider him an asset now. Of _course._

"I'm not going to live without you," Schuldig said. "Not while I have a choice."

Crawford glared. "So I don't have one, is that it?"

"Mr. Crawford?" The nurse was young, handsome, Asian with reddish-brown hair. "I'm Alan. Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"A bit dazed," he said. _Pissed,_ he added mentally.

"We'll be bringing the doctor in to explain where things are at in a minute, but Mr. Schuldig says you're aware you have a tumor?"

"Yes," Crawford said dully.

"You're going to need surgery right away. The military has already been informed of the situation; under these unusual circumstances--"

"Of course," Crawford said. He already knew how the rest of the conversation was going to go, anyway.

"Are you comfortable? We've increased your painkillers, and--"

"I'm fine," Crawford said. "Go get the doctor."

"You don't need to worry," Alan said. "The tumor's operable. The surgeon's very confident."

He walked out and Crawford put his hands over his face.

"Shouldn't have shown off your powers," Schuldig murmured. "Then they wouldn't be so anxious to keep you around."

Crawford dropped his hands and glared at him.

"You understand, don't you? You're the goose who lays the golden eggs." Schuldig got up and leaned into his space, so they were almost nose to nose. "They want to keep you laying. There's not a _fucking_ thing you can do about it."

There wasn't, but Crawford hit him anyway, and the feel of Schuldig's skin breaking under his fist was satisfying. Then the door was flying open, and Alan was grabbing his arm, and the horrible, unfathomable nothingness of his future started seeping in.

5.

Aya and Chloe were halfway through a game of shougi when Aya's cell phone rang. He was annoyed at himself for leaving it on; battery power was pretty valuable these days. He didn't recognize the number, but he took the call anyway, just in case. There was always the chance Aya had found him. "Yes?"

"First week of November," the voice said, and it took Aya a second to place it, the whisky-cigarettes thickness, the easy familiarity. "They'll be attacking again. We're doing as much as we can to stop them, but they're watching us, and we don't have much time. Aya?"

"Yes," he said, his voice sounding dry and strange.

"Find Mamoru, tell him. Anyone you can find with power. First week of November. Get underground, get armed. We've got-- shit, I gotta go."

"Yohji," he said, but the line was already dead.

"Aya, you okay?" Chloe was touching his hand.

"I have to--" Aya forced himself to breathe. He had to text Rex; Rex could get him to Mamoru, could warn Aya. Yohji. _Yohji._ "Just give me a second."

"Okay," Chloe said, easing back a little. "Just. You looked bad."

"I...it's been a long time." Aya looked over; Chloe looked shocked. "I didn't mean to--"

"It's fine," Chloe's face eased a little. "I was just worried. You don't freak out, you know?"

_I didn't freak out,_ Aya thought. Had he? "I know," he said.

 

Mamoru switched his phone on to check his messages; he usually did it once or twice a day, but with Nagi in Florida he'd been doing it more often. He knew it was a waste, but while the fall sun still shone he could at least charge from the solar cell Nagi had commandeered for them.

_Yohji called me. 2nd attack in Nov._

Mamoru blinked stupidly at the screen, at the unfamiliar number.

His phone buzzed a second time; a second message. The same number, but this one clarified: _It's Aya._

Yohji? _Yohji?_ Mamoru quickly typed a reply back. _Don't worry about batteries. Call._

Someone was having an argument in French next door; Mamoru thumped on the wall and waited. They quieted down, and the phone vibrated. "Aya-kun?"

"He knew my name," Aya said.

Mamoru just chewed on that for a while, then asked, "How?"

"I don't know, he said he didn't have much time. He said...he said he was being watched. That we should get underground."

"November?" _That's what Crawford said, too._

"He said it'd be the first week."

"Crawford said early November."

"Crawford?"

"Yeah." Mamoru sighed. "It's a long story. Underground, huh?" The French argument had started up again. Mamoru thumped on the wall again and searched his pathetic French vocabulary for insults. _Tant pis?_ That wasn't right. _"Fermez la bouches!"_

The neighbors fell silent. Mamoru suspected he'd screwed something up, but it had worked anyway.

"That's where we were when...." Aya's voice trailed off.

"Yeah," Mamoru said. "Us too."

"It's only Chloe and I," Aya said. "Though we found Trabant last week."

"Trabant?"

"Chloe's owl." Aya sighed. "He was all right. Mamoru--"

"Keep your phone on," Mamoru said. "I'll call the ambassador, make sure you get authorization for extra power. You're somewhere safe? You're warm?"

Aya smiled. Mamoru had changed so much, but there were some things that were still, essentially, _him._ "We're fine."

"How many--"

"Just the two of us. Two died, and...we're not sure of the other two. Free and Ken."

"Rex told me about Ken-kun," Mamoru said. "You think--"

"I don't know," Aya said. "Yohji seemed to have disappeared too, so maybe."

Mamoru looked up at the dingy ceiling. He missed the hotel. This apartment was serviceable, and they had more room, but that was about the end of it. The walls were too thin, the place way too crowded, and somehow it was all so much worse without Nagi around to say vicious things about the neighbors.

"I'll call again," Mamoru said. "I should pass this on."

"All right," Aya said.

"Thank you for coming to me, Aya-kun."

"Yeah," Aya said, and hung up.

Mamoru sighed. He was tempted to turn his phone off and just not deal with things for a while, but that would be stupid. He sent the first message to Nagi. _Call @ 9?_ Then it was on to the diplomats.

It would be a long night.

 

Another day, another hospital visit. Nagi was sick of it already; the chemical smell, the low light (important, after all, to save electricity in these times), the stressed, overtired nurses and the fake pleasantries of the reception desk. _I need to go back to New York,_ Nagi thought. He'd slipped into all the old patterns far too easily; the only thing missing was Farfarello. Crawford and Schuldig were even pissed at each other. Again.

"Sir," the receptionist said, "Mr. Crawford said--"

"I don't _care_ what Mr. Crawford said," Schuldig said, smiling at her like a predator. "Now why don't you be a good girl and _not_ alert security? It'll save us all a headache."

The receptionist-- Nagi noted wryly that the 'girl' was fifty at the youngest-- stalled for a moment with her hand above the phone, her grey eyes clouding with the effort to fight off Schuldig. Nagi sighed and walked around them both to the stairs. "Young man," someone said, "may I--"

"I know where I'm going," he said, and headed up. His shoes echoed on the stairwell.

Mayo Clinic Florida's oncology department had been consolidated into a single wing of the hospital; even so, it felt unnaturally quiet and depopulated. Crawford was sitting up in his bed, looking at a magazine. He looked so strange; most of his greying hair shaved, the bandage around his head disconcertingly white. He looked tired; he looked old.

He startled when Nagi came in, which answered the first question. Still no powers. Nagi wasn't surprised, but it wouldn't help Crawford's mood. "I said I didn't want visitors," he snapped, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"How long are you going to sulk?" Nagi challenged. He could feel Crawford's anger, but the loneliness underneath it was stronger than yesterday. _That_ at least was promising.

"I'm not sulking," Crawford replied.

Nagi rolled his eyes. "Then what are you doing?"

"Recuperating," Crawford said, snapping his magazine and setting it down on the tray. "Alone. Without distractions."

"Whatever," Nagi said, turning around. "Have fun."

He walked back down the stairs; Schuldig was still messing with the receptionist. By now she was probably ready to stab someone; Nagi hoped she just waited until they'd left. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

"You really think this'll work?" Schuldig said. He sounded almost plaintive; Nagi tried not to think it too consciously.

"Worth a try," Nagi said, shrugging. "Besides, it's getting colder in New York. I wanna go to the beach, see some sunlight for a change."

_Let him alone,_ Mamoru had said. _How long have the two of them been together? He wants Schuldig to come crawling back. Give him a couple days with no attention, and he'll be ready to negotiate._

_You're a cold-hearted bastard,_ Nagi answered.

_That's what you love about me._

Don't be so smug. Still, Mamoru was right, the asshole. And getting Schuldig out of the hospital and on the beach to torment a few new victims would cheer him up a bit.

 

"_Fermez les bouches_ isn't actually French, is it?" Mamoru asked Odige the next afternoon, when they were in the kitchen.

"It's French," he said. "Bad French, but French. Did it work?"

Mamoru grinned. "Mostly."

"That's something." Odige deftly chopped another potato. "Tell me again why we can't use the food processor?"

"The fuel truck was late," Mamoru reminded him. "Besides, it's not that bad. We have each other, right?"

Odige snorted. "I'd rather have my wife."

"I'd rather have your wife too," Mamoru said, and Odige laughed.

"You're starting to mouth off," Odige said. "We have to get your boyfriend back. Though your English has gotten better without him to lean on."

"At least he's coming back," Mamoru said. "I'm sorry about Dayo."

"I'll see her again," Odige said. "It'll just be a while. I should've had her work for me, like you did."

"It sort of happened the other way around," Mamoru said to the potatoes.

"I think she'd like you guys. She doesn't speak English, though. It might get awkward."

"I still remember _voulez-vous coucher avec moi?"_

Odige thwapped him over the head with the potato peeler.

 

As the attack drew nearer, they'd gotten more autonomy. Whatever they were doing to watch, they seemed to think it was sufficient, and Yohji certainly wasn't about to tell them otherwise. They muttered to each other in corridors and looked for blank spots.

The first round of calls had been a gamble, but they'd gone pretty well. Yohji hadn't counted on the way his heart pounded when he'd heard Aya's voice again, but that'd been a small price to pay. They'd all gotten more nervous since then, scanning each other's eyes, trying to see if anyone else had woken up or sunk back under whatever mental pressure the aliens applied. There were a couple telepaths on the ship; that helped. Yohji'd never guessed he'd be grateful to have a telepath around, but there it was.

He and Farfarello sparred pretty often now; Ken was in the Irishman's unit, still happily serving The People, and Yohji wanted to keep track of him.

Farfarello was actually better company than Yohji would've expected, wry and clever and damn fast. Yohji had called him 'Jei' at first, but he'd quickly been corrected: "I am Farfarello," he said, "until I see my wife and children again."

"And if you don't?"

Farfarello shrugged. It was an answer, anyway. And it made a certain amount of sense.

"I got married," he'd said. "She died, when--"

Farfarello nodded. "My wife will have survived that. She is...special. And she will protect our children. But there are battles left to fight."

"Yeah," Yohji said. "What do you think they want us to do?"

"I believe the Americans had an expression," Farfarello said. "'Clear, hold and build.' We are to make the world clean for them."

They were both more tired than usual today, but they didn't dare show it; appearances were important. Yohji struck out again with his weapon, a whipcord of thin, light metal that only vaguely corresponded to the normal laws of physics. Farfarello's weapon was a modified staff; it was weird to see it in his hand. The aliens didn't have knives, or they didn't trust the humans with them; Yohji had noticed most of the heavy-duty stuff had some kind of charge, maybe electrical, and he figured the aliens could just cut the power if stuff got dicey. He wanted his wire back, a little. Maybe the whip was better; it was different. Different was good; the memories of his old life didn't cut the way they had back on Earth, but they still ached.

He wondered if he'd ever really been in love with Asuka; with any of them.

He wondered if he'd stay sane if he made it home.

6.

Aya spent the next few weeks in a daze. People from the English government came to the cabin they were staying in, charged Aya's cell phone, and flew them to Brussels, where Aya met with a number of serious diplomats in quiet rooms and told them what little he knew. Chloe and Trabant took the change in location and climate well. Trabant liked to explore the city, and would bring home weird little treats for Chloe; a diamond ring, an iPod, a flower. Chloe ruffled his neck feathers and cooed praise at him.

They were given one of the condos usually reserved for visting diplomats; the attack had hit Belgium as hard as anywhere, and even the EU was running a skeleton staff. It was a nice enough place, roomy and quiet, with a single fireplace but plenty of wood. The central heating worked, but the thermostat was set just high enough to keep the pipes from freezing; the fireplace made enough of a difference that some nights they dragged the mattresses out into the living space to take advantage of the extra warmth.

In England they'd managed to avoid the communal spirit and stay below the attention of the authorities; now the authorities came and visited, tried to track the signal on his phone, brought in a hypnotist to make sure Aya hadn't missed any details. They didn't find anything of use, or if they did, they kept it to themselves. There were things to do; Aya joined a group improving the weatherization of the still-inhabited apartment buildings, and Chloe found work translating at EU headquarters. At the condo, Aya read by candlelight and stared at his phone; Chloe fussed over Trabant and kept a wary eye on Aya.

"Don't forget to eat," Chloe said one night, as he handed Trabant another scrap of bacon.

"I'm not a raptor like your owl."

"You still need to take care of yourself."

Aya shrugged.

"So this guy was pretty special," Chloe said, keeping his eyes on Trabant. "Huh?"

"Yohji?" Aya didn't know how to answer the question. "We weren't lovers." _We were barely friends._

"I wouldn't care if you were," Chloe said. "I mean--"

"I wasn't in love with him," Aya said. _But there had been something._ Not love. He closed his eyes. "I'm getting a headache; I'm going to go to bed."

"Okay," Chloe said, and left it at that.

It was a mild night, and so Aya went to bed in his own room, carefully putting his phone on the nightstand. The sheets were cold, but it was bearable.

He stared at the ceiling. _So, Yohji,_ he thought to himself, _what were we?_

 

The Secretary General's executive assistant checked his text messages. To his surprise, there was one from the Japanese foreign minister; usually anything with that country was handled through Takatori, who was handling his responsibilities well in light of his age and lack of previous experience. He had worked with Sakamoto Rin before; she was a consumate professional, and the message was simple and to the point.

_Politics here demanding new ambassador. Terrible idea, Y?_

He smiled. _Y. Takatori sharp &amp; talented. Better than predecessor IMO._

A reply came from her almost immediately. _Discreet?_

Ah. Someone had been gossiping. Gustad sighed. _Y._ He did remember, back in those horrible first hours, Takatori and his office assistant leaning together, clearly more than professional colleagues; but plenty of men and women had done far more than that. Rand Gustad himself had spent the last of his phone's precious battery trying to find his girlfriend. _V. discreet,_ he answered.

_Understood. TY._

No one wasted battery power on pleasantries anymore, so Gustad murmured, "Always a pleasure" to the phone and snapped it closed.

 

_Yumi: Gfather disowned me._

GotThePower: Seriously?

Yumi: Is it bad I'm relieved?

GotthePower: N. Watch your back.

Yumi: Watched. How's C?

GotthePower: Better. U were right. Don't say I told u so

Yumi: But I did

GotthePower: FU

Yumi: Come home &amp; I will

GotthePower: Miss you too. Prob leaving 2morrow

Yumi: Good

Nagi shut his phone and stared at it for a second.

"What?" Crawford asked.

"We're not going back to Japan," Nagi said, letting it sink in. "At least not while Saijou's alive."

"Good," Schuldig said, walking cheerfully into Crawford's room with a paper bag. "That country's ridiculous. Why the fuck would you _want_ to go back?"

Nagi shrugged.

Schuldig dropped happily into the bedside chair. "Brought you a present. Any guesses?"

Crawford shook his head sullenly. "Nothing yet."

Schuldig stuck his tongue out. "How long have you known me? Guess."

Crawford brightened a bit. "Did you bring me beer?"

Schuldig grinned. "Enough for everyone," he said, digging in the bag and handing them out. "Don't tell the nurse."

Nagi popped the top off his; he didn't like beer that much, but it was drinkable, and he was glad to have Crawford and Schuldig speaking to each other. _And tomorrow I go back north, so I can be a grown-up again._

 

Rex came when Aya was kneeling in the back of the greenhouse, planting a new set of lettuces; Aya saw her feet first.

Rex never knocked. Aya had gotten used to it. "You can help, if you want," she said.

Rex leaned down. "How?" She still wore high heels. She looked ridiculous, Aya thought. But pretty.

"You can water the seeds after I've planted them." There was no sense in turning down anyone who wanted to help. You didn't need to be trustworthy to help lettuce grow, after all.

Rex picked up the watering can and dutifully set to work. "I'm sorry," she said, halfway through the row. "Am I doing it right?"

Aya looked up. "You're fine," she said. "Thank you."

"We're all in this together, aren't we?" She flashed Aya a remarkably false, anxious smile.

_Something's wrong,_ Aya realized.

Rex finished the row and asked, "Is there anything else I can do?"

_Give me my brother back,_ Aya thought, but she stifled that irritation and considered. "You could sweep out the shop," she offered. "I know it's not very exciting, but--"

"No," Rex said. "That'd be fine. I'd...I need a bit of time out of the office."

She seemed so grateful Aya felt a slightly guilty for her earlier annoyance. "Sure," she said. "The broom's behind the counter." Rex quietly left the greenhouse and went back into the shop.

When Aya came back in to wash her hands, Rex was crying. "Rex-san," she said, hesitantly. "Can I--"

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sorry, this is terribly unprofessional--" She took a tissue from her blazer pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "My...employer has a disagreement with his grandson," she said. "It's...been a difficult few days."

"I'm sure everything will be all right," she said awkwardly.

"It won't," Rex answered, smiling at Aya through her tears. "But you're sweet to think so."

 

Crawford woke up at 2 a.m. and looked over at Schuldig, sleeping on the cot he'd finally condescended to have pulled in. Crawford's shields were still as strong as they'd been before the surgery, though it hadn't stopped Schuldig from sharing a wide assortment of mental images; pretty girls and boys on the beach, the smell of the fresh grilled fish he and Nagi had eaten the night they'd left him alone, the screams of the pedophile they'd found in South Beach and left for dead near the harbor. Schuldig had probably screwed Nagi into the mattress after that, but Crawford wasn't about to ask. Some questions were better left untouched.

He wanted out of this stupid hospital, the terrible food, the antiseptic smell, the _pity_ and _caring_ on the faces of the health care workers and military goons. At least Nagi and Schuldig had treated him normally.

If he had a team again....

If he had a team again, what would he do?

He turned his light on and grabbed the notepad on the table. So what if he couldn't see it? He still wasn't _stupid._

 

Nagi opened the door and was greeted by the glint of an arrow in the darkness.

"It's me," he hissed.

The arrow disappeared, and Mamoru turned back over, sighing back toward sleep. "You weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow," he muttered into the pillow.

"I know," Nagi said, locking the door behind him. "I'm sorry."

"The neighbors are crazy," Mamoru said, dreamily. "They yell in French. All the time. How'd you get here so early?"

"I stole a car."

Mamoru woke up a bit at that. "You did _not!"_

"A hybrid." Nagi pulled his jacket off. "With GPS so I could miss the checkpoints." It had been _wonderful._ He was still a little wired, even though he'd had to ditch the Civic outside the city and sneak into public transportation. "I got it up to 130 kilos an hour."

Mamoru blinked at him. "Nice," he said appreciatively. He shifted over as Nagi slid his shirt and pants off. "I'm too tired for sex," he announced.

Nagi grinned; only when Mamoru was exhausted was he that blunt. "I figured." He slid between the sheets. Mamoru smelled like sweat and Kenzo Pour Homme and halitosis; terrible, familiar, good. "You still the Ambassador?"

"So far," Mamoru said, and let Nagi slide his arms around him. "I told Sakamoto-san not to get killed over it."

"She likes you," Nagi said into his neck.

"Everybody likes me but Grandfather," Mamoru murmured.

"I should've killed him years ago," Nagi muttered back, once he was sure Mamoru was asleep again.

 

7.

"No," he said, turning over another page of his book. "Nothing yet."

Schuldig said nothing for a moment, which was satisfying. Then he said, "Did you answer me because I'm predictable, or--"

"You _are_ predictable," Crawford said automatically, and then stopped, considering. "I don't know," he said. It'd always been so easy and automatic. That was...something else. Intuition, or....

He sighed. Hope seemed ridiculous, but part of him couldn't help doing just that. His life had been built on big gambles, but the gambles had always rested on a solid rock of certainty; the next vision, the next moment.

He caught Schuldig's hand before the twit could wave it in front of his eyes. "You're back," Schuldig purred.

_Maybe._ It wasn't as certain or sure as it had been, but there was a flicker, an instinct.

Schuldig's grin was manic. "Tell me before the nurse comes back," he said, diving under the sheets. Crawford protested until Schuldig's mouth erased any worry he had about embarrassment.

 

On the first day of November, the evacuations started; everyone underground, no questions, no exceptions. The American government blocked off subway tunnels for food and shelter; Mamoru was stunned to see how deep and far the system really went. A few people insisted on remaining in their own basements, and the UN Building was still available, but Nagi and Mamoru had seen enough of that place for the rest of both their lives. They managed to find a space under Rockefeller Center, in what used to be a sporting goods store.

"Just like camping," Mamoru said wryly, as he checked the tent.

"When were you ever camping?"

"When I was a kid," he said. "Manx took me. She taught me to start a fire, and to lay snares and keep a safe perimeter."

_Your childhood was so fucked up,_ Nagi thought. "Crawford thinks it's going to be in the first few days, but he's not sure. Things are still hazy."

"Hazy's better than nothing at all."

It was a nice tent; roomy, and there were only a few other people in the store, a group of male and female friends from New Jersey who'd been stranded in the city during the first attack and stayed, and a straight Vietnamese couple who didn't speak a lot of English but who spoke enough French for them to communicate. The store had been pretty well stripped of food, but they'd gotten rations from the military, and they sat together in a group to make meals. It felt oddly festive, in an end-of-the-world kind of way. They sang "Frère Jacques" and "Rabbit" and "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and had soon graduated up to more complex works like "Little Rabbit Foo Foo" and "Oh My Beloved, Stay With Me."

"How long do you think it'll be?" Audrey, one of the Americans, asked.

"I don't know," Mamoru said, as Nagi translated for the Vietnamese couple. "I hope it won't be long."

 

Ken woke, as all the others did, to a warm, instant flash of artificial light. "It's time," Jei said.

They dressed in silence, pulling their warm zipsuits up and grabbing their gear. "I've been waiting," Ken said.

"We know," Irina smiled. "We all know."

As they left their sleeping chamber and filed out into the hallway, Ken realized for the first time just how many of them there were. It had to be in the thousands, at least.

Someone was shouting behind them. "Farfarello! Which group are you in?"

"Europe," Jei answered.

"Good," a blond man who seemed familiar answered. "We'll be together. I think most of us are--"

"Who is this guy?" Ken interrupted. "What's-- your name's Jei. Why is he--"

"Shit," the blond said. "Is he--"

"I believe he is still under thrall, yes," Jei said.

The blond frowned at him. He had pretty green eyes. "What do I do, hit him over the head?"

"I'm _right here,"_ Ken said. "Why are you talking about me like I'm not here? And what are you guys doing? We deploy in ten minutes. We need to protect The People--"

"They're invading _us,_ stupid," the blond said. "They brainwashed you." He waved a hand in front of Ken's eyes.

"Don't do that," Ken said, and grabbed his wrist. "It's annoying."

The blond grinned. "Still strong, anyway, huh? One thing those bastards did was build us up. I wouldn't be worth crap in a fight without them."

Ken tightened his grip. "I don't understand."

"My name is Kudoh Yohji," the blond said. "You and I were friends, in Japan. Well, close enough to friends, anyway. Come on, Ken, we've gotta go, and I don't want to drag you."

Jei took Ken's arm. "Enough," he said. "We were bunkmates, yes? Do you trust me?"

"I don't know," Ken said, but he let go.

"It'll be okay," Irina said. "I promise, Ken. You need to trust us." She took his arm and looked deeply into his eyes. "Please."

Jei and Irina were the people he'd learned to trust. "All right," he said. "For now."

She smiled. "For now," she said. "That's good enough."

 

Yohji kept an eye on Ken as they descended. He was twitchy and agitated, the same way he'd always been before a mission. Of course this _was_ a mission.

Just not the kind of mission they were used to.

Their transport craft passed through Earth's atmosphere and ended a mile above the surface, hovering like a helicopter without rotors; the soldiers stood on a floating platform that sunk, with disconcerting slowness, to the surface. "Where are we?" Yohji asked. "Do you recognize it?"

"Brussels," Farfarello said. "I recognize the Atomium." He pointed to a strange metal sculpture that looked like someone had taken their science classes way too seriously. "They must be targeting the EU."

"You think they know that much?" Irina asked. "I wish I could figure out how much they knew about us, but they've kept us sealed off."

"That's what we're counting on, though, right?" The streets of the city were deserted. Yohji wanted to cry with relief. They'd listened, they'd paid attention; maybe things would be all right. Maybe--

The man at his elbow tapped his shoulder; a STIB/MIVB sign. He pointed down. An underground. Okay.

Did the aliens realize, yet, how many of them were free? What would they do?

"We don't have much time," he said out loud, and at least a few people could understand Japanese and nodded. Or maybe they just read his intent. Didn't matter, they had to move. Someone shouted a protest and Yohji heard the sickening thud as someone took her out.

Yohji hoped she wouldn't die, and started walking.

 

Mamoru woke up alone in the tent; not that unusual, but Nagi had already rolled up his blanket and folded his pajama pants neatly on his side of the enclosure. He sighed. _What's he doing now?_

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. No sense worrying too much. He pulled his pajama top over his head, scratched his chest aimlessly, and found the least disgusting of his t-shirts and boxers in the pile. There was a pair of jeans they'd found at the sporting goods store he hadn't worn yet; he pulled his pajama bottoms off and got dressed. He could hear the quiet hum of voices outside the tent; it was probably morning, though it was hard to keep track of day and night underground.

He zipped the tent flap open and was greeted by the hulking presence of a tall, broad Asian man in a military uniform. "Good morning, Sir," the man said.

"It's started?"

"Any hour now," the man said. "Specialist Joe Chen, nice to meet you, Ambassador Takatori."

"Likewise," he said. "I understand the diplomats are supposed to stay underground while you guys handle defense?"

Specialist Chen nodded. "That's exactly it, Sir."

Mamoru already knew the answer to the question, but he felt obligated to ask. "So my executive assistant is...."

"That's classified information, Ambassador."

"Of course." He sighed; he'd known it was coming since Nagi had levitated a desk for the Secretary-General's benefit. "And I'm not allowed to go looking for him, right?"

"Afraid not, Sir."

"Right." Mamoru shook his head. "I'm going to eat some breakfast. I'm allowed to do _that,_ right?"

"Of course, Sir."

"Of course," Mamoru said, to the ceiling. "Of course."

 

There were five points of attack, Yohji found out later: Tokyo, Brussels, New York, Sydney and Saint Petersburg. The aliens had relied on their human troops to clear the cities, but the cities were already clear, and more than half of those human soldiers had cleared their brainwashing. The skirmishes he saw were brief and violent, but the human defense lines held, aided by the military protecting access to the underground lines. They'd stationed a psychic at every access point to separate those still affected by the brainwashing, and it was _just Yohji's luck_ that his team came to Schuldig's.

"Long time no see," the redhead said, leaning against the door like he was at a nightclub, not in the middle of an apocalypse. "Things seem to have calmed down for the short term."

"You," Yohji said, as Farfarello walked forward and clapped Schuldig on the arm.

"Try not to look so excited to see me, darling," Schuldig grinned at Yohji, reaching out to return Farfarello's greeting. "Oh, look, you brought your idiot friend."

"He's not an idiot," Yohji grumbled. "And he doesn't remember me, anyway."

"Oh, we can fix that," Schuldig said. "Is he the only one in your little group still...afflicted? Scanning everyone's getting tiring."

"I believe so," Farfarello said.

"Can you fix him?" Irina asked. "I did what I could. He's a decent guy, if he can be--" She waved her hand vaguely.

"Yeah, yeah," Schuldig said. "Give me a second, he might be useful."

"I don't want to be--" Ken backed away. "What are you going to do to me?"

Farfarello reached out, his arm quick as a snake, and caught Ken by the shoulder. "It's very simple," he said. "He is going to turn you from a victim to a man." Irina took Ken's other arm. "How long will it take?" Farfarello asked.

"Not too long," Schuldig said. "Just keep him in place and let me focus. The rest of you assholes, get out of here. Your phone friend's waiting for you downstairs, Balinese. Better go check on him."

 

Aya had been waiting in the corridor for what seemed like years, not just hours. "The man who made contact with you will be coming through this door," a man from the government he didn't recognize had told him. "We'd like you to speak with him first, to help him understand the situation."

"Of course," Aya had answered. They'd given him a few cans of soda and he'd brought a book, but now that the attack had begun, he just sat, watching the faces pass by, hoping he'd recognize Yohji. Chloe was further in the underground, probably telling stories to pass the time.

Yohji still saw him first. "Aya," he said.

Aya stood up. They stared at each other. The rest of Yohji's group walked by, their strange boots thumping into the distance. "You're--"

"I remember," Yohji said. He looked stronger and heavier than he had the last time Aya had seen him, but he still retained his familiar sadness. "I remember Weiss, and you, and...what happened to me."

"We looked for you," Aya said.

"It would've been all right if you hadn't."

"Ken saw you. He said you were happy."

"I was," Yohji said. "But it was a lie, wasn't it? And she...she died."

"I'm sorry," Aya said.

"So am I," said Yohji.

"We don't have a lot of time," Aya said. "Crawford says they'll attack again soon."

"Crawford?"

"They're calling him 'The Prophet,'" Aya explained dryly. "Long story."

"Can we...just talk for a minute?"

Aya nodded.

 

Because he'd been the first one to make contact back with Earth, Yohji was the one who ended up on the phone with the international command center. And to continue the misery, Naoe Nagi was leading the meeting.

"They've got everything separated out, the tech guy should've sent you the map--"

"We've got the map," Nagi said.

"They could send messages _into_ our brains but they didn't have any line of communication _back._ The psychics figure they sealed themselves off to save themselves from being overwhelmed-- Danielle said that anyone who could push that much information _in_ would be vulnerable to stuff coming back. We just need to get that chamber open," Yohji said. "The psychics figure they can do the rest from there, if the air doesn't kill them first."

"Oh, is that all," Nagi remarked dryly.

"You can do it, though," Yohji said. "Can't you?"

"Probably," Nagi said. "We'll have to pull all the powers into play, in addition to the military equipment we've prepared. That includes you."

"I'm not--"

"I saw that wire of yours," Nagi said. "Don't kid yourself."

Yohji sighed. "I still don't think I can--"

"We'll need everything. It won't be easy. And I want to keep the civilians out of it."

Yohji looked out at the corridor. Aya and Chloe were talking; Chloe had a hand up by his shoulder, stroking his owl's feathers, and Aya was leaning toward him, glancing over at Yohji. Yohji nodded at him. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. If you really think--"

"You've got plenty of people with abilities there," Nagi said. "Find the telekinetics and get them together. Fast. They're your first line. Second line's the psychics. Anyone else you've got needs to keep them protected. You know what to do."

"What, I'm supposed to just magically be able to--" The call went dead. "You asshole," Yohji said to it, and turned it back off.

 

In the end, the fight was over quickly. The telekinetics, poised on the top of the highest available buildings, pushed and pulled; the psychics stood in wait, but the expected attack didn't come. Instead, the chamber creaked open, slowly, inexorably, as the support staff kept their weapons ready and prepared to fire.

There was a sound; something high-pitched, squealing, inhuman. Nagi clapped his hands over his ears and kept pushing. It was hard; harder than the castle had been, those years ago, hard to keep control on _one thing_ and push so hard, so much.

There was a sound behind him, but he couldn't break his concentration to worry about it. He trusted the others to keep him safe; he didn't have any choice to do otherwise.

"It's all right," came a voice behind him; soft, light, familiar. An arm circled around his waist, supporting him; the familiar emotions came in, trust, worry, affection.

_You shouldn't be here,_ Nagi thought in Mamoru's direction. He gritted his teeth and pushed harder.

And then the cracking of metal; the screaming higher, louder, angrier.

When it finally broke open, it made a sound like the death of the world.

In Japan, Tomoe Sakura put her hands to her ears and screamed.

 

_Just stay in the basement,_ Aya reminded herself. _It's safe below ground. It's all going to be all right...._

The metallic noises had subsided a bit, but she could hear something still, noises that might have been normal, might have been human. She turned her phone on; no all clear yet.

Maybe there wouldn't be an all clear.

Aya looked at the cupboard she'd filled with food; ramen, jam, crackers. How long would it last? How long could _she_ last, in the basement alone? Maybe she should have listened to Rex, but what if Sakura came back? She wouldn't leave Sakura to come here alone and wonder where she was, if everything was all right. Who knew what she might have gone through?

She sighed. She'd been distracting herself with a book for a few hours, but Yumi was getting sicker and the novel was starting to get depressing. She had a few other books, but they all seemed too similar and dull. She'd even gone through some of the boxes in the basement and found a stack of old detective novels that smelled like terrible cologne and bourbon. _A Wild Sheep Chase_ looked promising, but she couldn't get past the dead girl at the beginning.

She was too tired to do anything but sleep, and too stressed to sleep. She'd lost track of time in the basement; her body couldn't tell if it was supposed to be day or night.

She turned her phone back off.

And then she caught a noise; something high, stressed--

Screaming?

"Sakura-chan?" she asked the empty room.

It was. It _was._

She ran up the stairs.

Sakura was pale and screaming and holding her head; but it was _her,_ clearly her, and Aya threw her arms around the girl and started dragging her toward the flower shop. Sakura didn't resist; there was tension in her shoulders and torso, but her arms and legs were oddly limp.

She was _heavy._ Aya pulled her into the lobby of the flower shop; it wasn't a bed, but at least they would be inside.

Sakura started coming to as Aya brought the blankets into the lobby. "Aya-- Aya-chan!" Her eyes widened, and she reached around in a panic. "Did I-- I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"I don't think so," Aya said, kneeling down by her friend. "You were alone when I found you."

"They-- they made us think were were-- I forgot you! Aya-chan...." Sakura reached out and pulled Aya into her arms. She'd gotten stronger in the time she'd been missing; her tight embrace almost hurt. "I won't forget you again, ever, I promise. I'm so glad you're all right...."

"They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, no." Sakura shook her head. "I'm fine. You're all right?"

Aya nodded. "I missed you. I was so worried...."

Sakura shook her head, like she was trying to clear a dream from her mind. "What am I--" She pulled at the coverall she was wearing; dark, made from a material that looked like plastic. "This-- _ugh."_ She found a zipper at the neck and started pulling at it. "I need a _bath,_ and to get this _thing_ off--"

"Let's get you upstairs," Aya said abruptly; the curfew was still in effect, but the shop still had _windows._ Sakura's skin was even paler where the zip had exposed her neck and upper chest; Aya stared for a moment and then looked at the floor. "We might have enough hot water for a bath. We have to be careful with electricity now, but--"

"I don't have to...."

"No," Aya said, helping Sakura to her feet. "We'll get you a bath."

 

They looked a little like jellyfish; boneless, squishy, translucent, or maybe of a color that the human eye couldn't quite handle. They were huddling tightly together; Yohji wasn't sure if _scared_ was the right word but it seemed the nearest human equivalent. The military-looking types in the Hazmat suits walked over to them; they didn't move.

"What did they want?"

Schuldig shook his head, still dazed from the stress of the attack."Couldn't tell. Land, we knew. Why...." He coughed, and Yohji put out a hand to steady him. Schuldig grinned at him, feral, familiar. "You look good," he said.

"You're insane."

"You're one to talk." Schuldig coughed again, and tried to sit up. "Just because you can get hard without visualizing your fingers on some girl's windpipe doesn't mean you're rational, Kudoh."

_I know,_ Yohji thought.

"I can still hear you."

"I know." He helped Schuldig up so he could sit. The aliens seemed to be dying; they were losing their not-color. The Hazmat guys started scooping them up with what looked like snow shovels and putting the bodies into metal boxes. _What an anticlimax._ "I can feel you in my head."

"Yeah," Schuldig said. "I'm a little too tired to care right now."

 

Were they on a rooftop? He couldn't really remember. Still, rooftops were nice to sleep on, and Nagi thought sleep sounded like a very good idea. He was on his knees now, with Mamoru holding him up. That felt good. Mamoru wasn't supposed to be there, but it was still kind of...nice.

"Five people, Nagi-kun?" Mamoru asked, into the back of his neck. "Isn't that overkill?"

"Obviously not." Nagi tried to get to his feet; Mamoru caught him before he wiped out completely. "What'd you do to them?"

"Tranqs. They'll be fine."

Nagi shook his head. "Wanted you clear."

"Did you really think I'd leave you alone?"

Nagi's lips moved, but nothing came out. He swallowed and tried again. "No. You're that stupid."

"Shut up," Mamoru said. "Should I get a medic? Are you--"

"I'm just tired," he said. "No pain."

"Dizzy?"

_"Tired,"_ Nagi repeated. "I'd tell you if I was having a stroke."

"You might not know--"

"Stop," Nagi said, his voice gaining strength. "Now."

"Okay," Mamoru said, tightening his grip around Nagi's waist. "But let's get you some rest before they remember who you are and want you to talk."

That sounded like a pretty good idea. "I have to move, huh?"

"I'll keep you up."

"Okay."

 

"Aya," Sakura said. "Come in and keep me company. Please?"

Aya walked into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. Sakura looked a bit better in the warm water, her skin rosy from the heat. "Are you feeling better?"

Sakura nodded. "I'm feeling...clean again."

The all clear had come in while Aya was still drawing the bath. She was still hoping for word from her brother, but she knew that would take time. With her luck it would come in through Rex again, anyway. "I'm so glad to see you again," she said.

"I can't believe I forgot you," Sakura said. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't you," Aya said. "It was them. And the all clear said they're gone now. Don't blame yourself."

Sakura shook her head and sat up a little in the bath, the water sloshing as her knees rose up. "You were here all alone," she said. She reached over and took Aya's hand with damp fingers.

Aya looked down at the bathmat. "I kept hoping you'd come back."

"I'm back," Sakura said softly. "You know, the water's still warm...."

Sakura's face, when Aya looked up, was a bit redder. "Are you--"

"Come in," Sakura said. "Please? I'm tired of the past, Aya-chan. I want a future."

Aya leaned over the side of the bath, and Sakura's lips were as soft and warm as the petals of a rose in the sunlight.

 

8.

 

"We're going to ride along on a military flight," Schuldig told Yohji, as they walked into the airport. "Crawford's still the special guest of the U.S. government, so we've got our meals paid for a few days more. He says we'll break off in a couple months, when we've gotten what we want from them."

"Okay," Yohji said. He looked around. The airport looked deserted. "You promise. You'll keep me--"

"I never lie," Schuldig said, and Yohji didn't believe him for a second. "C'mon, Kudoh, what do you have to lose? That you haven't already lost?"

_Not much,_ Yohji thought; no home, no job, no wife. He'd talked to Aya after everything was over. Aya'd been nice enough; he'd been kind. Chloe had seemed pretty decent, too. Maybe they could've been something approaching; some kind of bachelor apartment, helping fix things, dinners and breakfasts and sneaking treats to the owl. But how long would it be, before he snapped again? Before everything went wrong? _We've got second chances, Aya,_ he'd said. _Let's not fuck them up. Go see your sister. Start over._ "Okay," he said. "But you don't get to fuck me."

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it," Schuldig said. Yohji almost believed him.

 

They'd stayed up too late the night before and _clearly_ drank too much. But they'd had so much to celebrate, and so much to tell each other. And...other things to do, of course; Aya blushed a bit at the memories. She rolled over, taking care not to disturb Sakura, and checked her phone.

_Aya: I'm all right. Coming back to Japan with a friend. I'll see you soon._

"Ran," she whispered, and tried to ignore the thrill in her heart. "I'm so glad you're all right."

_I have so much to tell you,_ she texted back. _I can't wait to welcome you home._

 

"I told you it was beautiful," Jei said.

It _was_ beautiful. Ken had never seen anything quite like it. "So it's quiet? Farming?"

"Very quiet," Jei said. "And you make things grow."

"That sounds...pretty good," Ken said. "And the Irish love football."

"Aye," Jei grinned. "We do. Come, Sally and the children are waiting." He took Ken's arm and led him to the door of the farm.


End file.
